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Hemphill, Vivia, 1889-1934

"Down the Mother Lode"

The mare ... is over the line,
first ... It is all ended, life, love, honor, happiness ... I cannot
belong to that man! My poor old father. Dear old ... for his sake, I
must. I - "
"Patty, girl."
"Eric, you are not to blame. You would wager on your own horse. 'Tis but
natural. I must accept my fate with what fortitude I can summon. Please
take me home. All the people staring. I cannot bear it long."
But when Slick-heels Saul pressed forward to her side at the
boarding-house steps, she was as stately and cold as the snow-hooded
rocks of Granite Mountain.
"I have lost everything, but still I hold you to your promise."
"I made no promise, sir," she said haughtily.
"'But you will," he answered meaningly, "tomorrow."
"Stand aside!" thundered Eric.
"Come awn," soothed Irish Mike. "Not with the lady here, Eric, b'y."
"Patty, I cannot let you go! I will shoot the beast on sight."
"That would not vindicate my father's honor. Hush, he is coming. I must
remember that I am a Laughton."
Eric turned to stare moodily out the dusty window.


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